White Black Red
by Knighted Fantasy
Summary: This is my 1st fic so please know that it is not my best work. What happened after Dustfinger went with the white women? What went through his mind? What did his friends in the Inkworld think? Set in Dustfinger's point of view.
1. The Beginning of the End

White, Black, Red

White…Cold fingers tugging at my heart, whispering my name…

Black…Night forever, nothing to lose, nothing to gain…

Red…Fire, the only familiarity, the only warmth…

Chapter 1:The Beginning of the End

If you could die to give someone you loved life, would you do it? I had the choice…and I chose death. I don't regret my decision, and I suppose I'll go mad before I can start to. Take a journey with me, a journey through endless night, and my muffled hope of deliverance. Go with me into my memories. I suppose the real beginning would be my life's end…

Farid laid so still, eyes closed, breath gone, heart no longer beating. As I sat by his lifeless body I made my decision. I would see if the story was true. The story of the fire eater who gave his soul to the white women for his son's life back, had been one of my favorites throughout my life. Could it really be true?

I was scared, I admit it, but Farid deserved his life back. He was so young, and good with fire too. He spoke it's language so well I was sure he would be better than me some day. My eyes had seen so much, too much for my liking, and his so little.

Meggie, she was another reason. She loved that boy. She was so heartbroken when he…I cringed away from the memory of her pain. It was too much for me to bear hers and mine at the same time. Yes, I would summon the white women. I would trade my life for Farid's. I would entertain them with fire for all of eternity, just like the story.

As I prepared myself Meggie wandered into the same tunnel as me, walking as though stuck in a nightmare. I felt a fresh wave of pain at the sight of her tear streaked face. I told her to go, to tell Roxanne that I loved her, to tell her I wanted to see if the story was true. Goodbye, I whispered, unheard as she drifted away, her face troubled. I smiled at the thought of her happy with Farid again. That is the reason, I told myself, and then I summoned them.

The white women came swiftly and I explained the trade to them. They agreed without hesitation, spectral faces suddenly greedy. Then they reached their cold white fingers into my chest. I had to grit my teeth as the cold pain spread from their fingers to the rest of my body.

The last sensation of my life was white…Cold fingers tugging at my heart, the women whispering my name. As the life left my body I smiled, everybody would be happy now. I thought of beautiful Roxanne, and the love we had shared. I love you, I thought, and then I died.


	2. Into the Dark

Chapter 2:Into the Dark

Black…Endless night, I now had nothing to lose, nothing to gain. Black, the first sensation of my death. The feeling of forever black welcoming my soul along with caressing white fingers, was my newest living nightmare. The white women were the only thing I could see. They no longer whispered my name longingly, I was theirs now.

My mind felt numb, hollowed out, my life seemed like someone else's story, someone distant, impossibly far away. The white women beckoned, and told me to follow. There was no fight left in me. Their wish was my command.

We traveled through the black nothingness until we reached it, the white women's castle. It was white as bone, and was absolutely huge. It reminded me of the Adderhead's castle in my past life, a different story that was no longer my own.

This was my new life, my new story. The world of black and white was so different, so…wrong. I automatically summoned fire to comfort me. I panicked when it didn't come right away. It was reluctant, like a dog being given to a new master.

Was I really so different? Fire finally came just as I began to believe I had lost my ability. Red…Flame, the only color, the only familiarity, the only warmth. It played with me, flickering between my fingers. I froze with shock as I saw my hands. My skin had always been pale, but I was now more pale than a ghost. Or was I a ghost? I stroked my longest scar thoughtfully, then examined my hands again.

Yes, by comparison my skin was much paler than before, but at least I was no where near the dreary blankness of the white women. As I thought this I noticed that many of them had gathered around me, a spectra audience. They looked at me with greedy, pupiless eyes. They wanted me to perform.

Once again I was as powerless to defy them as a marionette is to defy the puppeteer holding it's strings. I called to my old friend as I had many times before, and although sluggish, fire came. It ran up my arms and danced on my fingertips. I twirled and moved with it as we played, people had not called me Fire Dancer for nothing.

As fire and I danced, my memories came back to me, clearer than they had been since my death. I nearly laughed with joy, something I had not done for a long, long time. Fire had traveled with me to this dark place. It has helped keep my memories intact, helped keep me from being swallowed by the colorless nothing that befalls all residents of the white women's castle.

I would fight to stay me, Dustfinger, Fire Dancer, and fire would help me. For once I felt strong, I felt like a hero. The white women might have my soul, but they would never take my spirit. I have always been a survivor, and even now in death, I would take my life with me. This was my new story, my new world, white, black, red…


	3. Among the Fighters

Chapter 3:Among the Fighters

Over the next few days, weeks, years?-It's hard to tell time when you live in darkness unconnected to the living, time-keeping world-I met others who lived (if you could call it living) here. I learned from them that the longer you've been here the paler you get, and the foggier and more distant your memories become, and if you don't fight to keep your self you become a shell, a pale shadow of the living you. Women who do this might actually join the ranks of white women, forgetting who they are completely.

I remember well the day when I learned that the white women's castle is only a pit stop in eternity. I remember sitting quietly with other "fighters" like me who were sharing stories of their lives, when one man gasped. I watched in horror as slowly he began to fade, eyes wide with shock. Then suddenly, he was gone. The others explained to me that the white castle isn't eternity. No one knows when it will happen, or where you go afterwards, but eventually you just disappear.

We sat silently after that. They all knew of my deal with the white women. I knew that they were thinking the same thing I was. What if this was my eternity? What if I never "moved on"?

Time was a strange thing here in the Land of Black and White as I liked to call it. It ruled the place, and yet didn't seem to touch it. New people came, and older residents passed on to whatever awaits, be it heaven, hell, or another stop along the way. A couple of men and myself maintained a group we liked to call The Fighters, a group for those of us who chose not to forget. My skill with fire seemed to warm our non-beating hearts and melt the cold around us. I spent all my time either performing for my hosts, or with the Fighters. Too soon though, I was all that remained of the original group. Many of my allies passed, but I kept the Fighters going strong.

I learned the rules here quickly. Fighter rule #1, was one I was already good at only it had a different meaning here. Don't become good friends with anybody because, just like in life people pass on, upset you, give up. So although we helped each other, and spent all of our time together, everyone of the Fighters tried their hardest not to become too attached to anyone.

Then it happened, because I was a fool, because I was weak. I was sitting alone, stroking my scars, deep in thought, bringing up memories of my life the little lights in this world of darkness. I noticed some white women appearing, bringing with them their latest victim. I watched carefully for the new arrival. I was the leader of the Fighters, it was my job to invite the new arrivals. When I saw him I felt a fierce pain in my heart, one of the strongest emotions I'd felt since my death. The pain was overwhelming, it threatened to carry me away, to turn me pale and lifeless.

The boy who appeared was no older than Farid had been. He looked a lot like Farid too, tall, with dark hair and eyes. He looked around, frightened, alone as he took in what had happened. It reminded me of when Silvertongue had brought Farid out of his story and into Capricorn's church. This boy wouldn't be able to fight long on his own, I had to help him. I wandered over to him slowly, not wanting to scare him anymore than he already was. My scars had that effect sometimes, and to him I must have looked like a ghost since I was so pale.

I felt more pain, Farid use to believe in ghosts. He had been terrified of them, never leaving my side at night for fear that they would get him if he were alone. Farid was happy and alive, this boy was dead. I had to help him, they were so alike. As I got closer the boy's eyes widened with fear and possibly relief. His eyes flicked to the side, looking where to go if I was hostile, I suppose. "Don't worry," I said, nearly choking on the words. "As far as I can tell, death is the worst part of all this if you fight to keep your memories."

He sized me up, probably still wondering whether or not he should run. "What's your name?" I asked gently.

He hesitated, then answered, "Darin,"

I bit my lip and looked away fro a moment. Farid, Darin, even their names were similar.

"I'm Dustfinger," I replied, holding out my hand.

He looked at it, then at my face, back to my hand, then his eyes stopped on my face, concentrating hard. "You are _Dustfinger_?" he asked.

"The one and only," I replied, "From the scars on my face, to my cold heart, and the fire on my fingertips." I added the last part and called fire for emphasis.

Darin looked thoughtful for a moment then said, "If your heart is cold then why are you so loved?"

I forced myself to say his name, "Darin, being talked about and being loved are not the same thing. The Adderhead is talked about, I'm sure, but he is not loved. So, you've heard stories about me?"

"I've heard _many_ stories about you," he replied, "And I know that you are loved. They still mourn your death."

"And who are they?" I asked.

"Your friends," he said frowning, "Meggie, Mo, the Black Prince," he slowed, "Roxanne…Farid."

I looked away again as I tried to swallow the lump building up in my throat. This boy knew them? Who was he? "How…" I had to take a deep breath and start again.

"How do you know them?"

Darin looked at me curiously, trying to break through my defenses, to see what was behind my permanent mask. The walls I had spent so much time to build up were threatening to fall, to leave me defenseless. I worked hard to keep them up. Darin finally answered, "The Motley Folk found me. We don't know what happened to me. They found me beat up by the side of the road. They took me in, Farid, Meggie, Mo, all of them, were with them. I couldn't remember anything but my name."

I took a deep, silent breath. "Darin, how long ago was that? I know it's hard, but please, try to remember."

The boy frowned and thought hard. He finally looked up and said, "I was with them for more than a year."

I closed my eyes, and bit my lip to keep from laughing hysterically. I had been here in this dark place for at least a year, probably much longer. How could it have been so long? Fire had kept me sane this long, how much longer would it last?

"And you said they still mourn?" I asked then added to myself, "Why would they mourn someone like me?"

"Yes, they do. They love you Dustfinger. They speak of you all the time. I would sit there and listen to their stories, and imagine meeting you. I never imagined it this way though."

I sat in silence for a moment, letting it all sink in. They missed me as much as I missed them. "Well," I said at last, "You're here now. Come with me, there are some people I'd like to introduce you to. You have some stories that could help us."

Darin looked at me for a moment, then smiled and followed me.

K people, not putting up another ch until I get a couple more reviews!


	4. Ghosts of the Past

Chapter 4:Ghosts of the past

I sat quietly among the Fighters. We were sitting around a fire created by me, of course. We were listening to Darin, who was telling us several of his adventures with the Motley Folk. Almost all of his stories included my old friends, and I listened closely, trying to get as much information about them as I could without interrupting. It sounded like they were doing fine, which made me feel better. Hearing about them brought waves of pain over me, but they were welcome. Anything was better than nothing. I would rather feel pain than nothing at all.

When Darin's story came to a close another Fighter started one. As the story went on I realized it was the story of his death. The Fighters were encouraged to tell the story of our death, as it was our last moments before we came here. "…as 'e came closer with the knife, I knew 'e was planin' ta kill me. Money alone wasn' enough for 'im, 'e wanted ta be able ta use tha' shiny blade a 'is. So I bent down all slow, like I was goin' on me knees ta beg. Then I reached inta me boot an' pulled out a dagger I had hidden in ther. I got back on me feet fast as I could, yeh know, and I ran at 'im wit' the dagger. I managed ta slice 'im arm up good, and 'e dropped 'is knife. To bad I didn' know 'bout 'is companion who was hidin' in the bushes near us. Cowardly snake ran up an' stabbed me in me back." He shook his head sadly. "An' then I find meself here, in this cursed, dark place." Then he looked up at me and said, "Well at least we 'ave good ol' Dustfinger here! 'e brightens the place up a bit! 'ere's to Dustfinger!" He raised his fist in the air as he shouted the last part. A chorus of "To Dustfinger!" followed him.

I smiled bitterly and said, "Well, you don't have to worry about losing me either. I'm here for as long as you are and longer, fellow Fighters."

Darin looked at me curiously and asked, "What do you mean?"

We had told him about this being a "pit stop", he was asking about my comment. "Did no one tell you how I died?"

"It was a…forbidden subject I suppose. No one ever told me exactly. All I know is that you died saving Farid. Was it one of the Adderhead's men? Was it Basta?"

"What you heard was true enough, I did die saving Farid," The dark world around me blurred as I brought back the memory of the end.

"Who killed you? How did they win against a man that fire itself obeys?"

"No one killed me, no one _alive_ anyways."

Darin looked confused and I continued, "They told you that I died saving Farid's life. What they didn't tell you was that Farid…was already dead."

Darin looked even more confused, and the rest of the Fighters looked like they would like to hear the story too, although some of them already had.

"We were fighting the Adderhead's men, fighting for our freedom, for our lives. Basta, he could have killed me, his knife could have taken me…but he decided to attack something that was much more fragile than the body."

"What?" the boy interrupted, eager to hear the answer he had always been denied.

"My heart," I sighed, then continued, "He saw me, and as I said, could have taken me, but he saw Farid also, and with a well aimed shot he sent a knife into Farid's back. Farid was dead instantly."

Darin choked and said, "Then…how…?"

"Do you want to hear the story or not boy?" I demanded, somewhat harshly.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I won't interrupt again," he answered sheepishly.

"Good. This is not the easiest subject for me. We took his body with us of course, and I knew what I had to do. Have you ever heard the story of the fire eater who gave his soul to the white women for his son's life back?"

Darin nodded, eyes wide.

"That has been my favorite story since I was a boy. When I saw that Farid had died, I knew that I had to see if it was true. So I did. I summoned the white women and we made the trade."

Everyone was silent, and my last words hung in the air. Everyone glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes, and once again I knew what they were thinking. I was stuck here. In between worlds. Forever. Darin however, still looked confused.

"But what does that have to do with you not leaving us?" he asked.

"Men and women who came at the same time as me have all passed on. People who came after I did, have moved on. I am stuck here Darin. I am to entertain the white women with fire, forever."

Darin's confused look disappeared suddenly, and was replaced by an extremely troubled look. "What about when I move on? I don't want to go alone!"

"Darin, don't become attached to anyone here, you'll just end up hurt. Remember that."

Darin glared at me, suddenly determined. "I won't go alone. Dustfinger, somehow we'll get out of here together. We'll escape."


	5. The Touch of Fate

Chapter 5:The Touch of Fate

I stared at Darin, wondering if he was serious. The determined look in his eyes told me yes. "Darin, this is the white women's castle. We are in their realm. You don't just waltz away if you feel like it!"

Darin shook his head and looked like he was close to crying. "I…I know," he said, "But I don't want to go alone. I don't want to go at all…not if I don't know where I'm going. We have to escape! I've just found you Dustfinger! I don't want to leave you here when I move on."

I closed my eyes and traced my longest scar with my finger. It was a reminder of when _I_ hadn't wanted to let someone go. "Darin, I understand that you're scared, and although I choose not to show fear, I understand why you would. But you must understand, we have no say in the matter. Our future is not our choice anymore, it doesn't matter how much you want it to be different." I sighed, then continued, "If I were you I'd be wanting to get out of this hole as soon as possible."

Darin stared into the fire for a moment then said, "You're right, I am scared. But I'd rather be scared with a newfound friend than alone. What if we found a way? There would be stories about us! We would be heroes! Dustfinger and Darin...the ones who defied death…think about it!"

I shook my head. Was he mad? "Darin I told you not to become attached to anyone here, and this is exactly why. And believe me," I looked away from the fire to the blackness extending forever in every direction, "I have thought about it."

We were silent for a while, all of us uneasy with the direction the conversation had gone. I watched Darin carefully, trying to decide what he was thinking. His dark eyes were unfocused, brooding. He suddenly took a deep, long breath and everyone turned their attention to him. "The white women," he began in a slow, deliberate voice, "The white women fear fire."

"Yes," I agreed uneasily.

"You control fire, it's your friend. What if…"

"No," I interrupted, "It doesn't work that way! We cannot control our fate now! Have you listened to anything…"

"You cannot control fate, you say. But if you have the touch of fate, then you can do close to that." A woman across the circle interrupted in a smooth, silky voice, with a slight accent I wasn't familiar with. The first thing I noticed about her was that her skin was as dark as the Black Princes's. Her hair was pulled up into a sort of bun and her eyes were so darkly colored I had a hard time seeing the iris around the pupil.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice not nearly as polite as my words, "What was that?"

"To escape this place, you must have the touch of fate," the dark skinned woman said calmly, as if this was the most natural subject ever.

"Look, I'm sorry but I have no idea what you're talking about." I said, absolutely exasperated.

"In my life I was what you may call a fortune-teller, wise woman…witch, Elishamid in my native tongue. I am called Tialmae," she said.

I looked around the circle, where everyone began to fidget nervously. A witch? "All right," I said, "What does that have to do anything?" I winced at my harsh tone. If this woman was what she claimed to be, I should be more careful. I had never been superstitious before, but there was a feeling of power that seemed to be radiating from her, and although she was beautiful she looked dangerous.

"Your little friend does not wish to move on. You are unable to. This causes trouble for you both, correct?"

"Yes," I said hesitantly. Yes, most definitely dangerous. I snuck a look at Darin. He looked interested, much too interested.

"When my heart still had a beat I charged men and women to see what fate had in store for them, but as we have nothin to pay here, nothin to gain, I will look into your future for you Dustfinger. There is a feeling about you, a touch of fate." She closed her eyes and continued, "I feel it when you speak, when you talk to fire in it's own language. I feel it when you are silent, and memories fill your mind. It follows you like a shadow, Fire Dancer, no matter how much you choose to ignore it."

I was silent for a moment. How could you look into the future of one already dead, one who's fate could not change? I nearly jumped when I realized she was now right in front of me. How did she manage to sneak up on me like that? She reached out to me, and she touched one of my scars gently. The air buzzed when her hand came near my face, and her touch sent an odd, cold, tingle running through me. I gasped and jerked backwards. Her smile seemed harmless enough, but somewhere in there, in her black eyes something lurked. It would be suicide to make her angry.

"When fate touches you, it leaves something behind, power. If you have been touched by fate, escape from this place may be possible. You could have your soul back, your life. You could see your friends, and Roxanne."

I sat there dumbfounded. How could this be happening?

"Do you wish to know? Do you wish for the freedom of life? Let me find out for you, let me show you the power you possess."

Her black eyes seemed to be magnets for my own. I couldn't look away. I couldn't move. Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt instinct tell me that this was all because of her, this desire for life, the hope that I could have it back. Somewhere, I knew that the real Dustfinger would never answer how I was about to. I licked my lips, cleared my throat, and took a deep breath. And even as I spoke the word, I felt something inside me scream no. One word would change my life, and death, forever.

"Yes,"


	6. Back To Life

Chapter 6:Back To Life

I sat there, frozen. I couldn't believe what I had just done. How could I have let my guard down? What had happened to the old Dustfinger, the one who wouldn't have even thought of escape? Tialmae's expression turned to one less binding, and more…pleasant. At least as pleasant as she could get. I looked down now that I was able to, and took deep breaths, realizing that I had been holding my breath. I didn't allow myself to think for the moment, I focused on the air reaching my deprived lungs. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…the simple, normal routine seemed hard now. It was Tialmae, I knew it. She stood there, a wickedly innocent smile on her face, watching me struggle to get my breath back. Inhale, exhale, I felt like I had just run a marathon.

Darin was staring at me, looking excited. This was exactly what he had wanted. I closed my eyes, and thought about all that had happened. I had always been wary of death, being careful, getting out of tough spots with my quick mind. Now I was afraid of life, to go back. How long had I been here? Would they welcome my return? What if Tialmae's offer was not what it seemed to be? "So," she said, as though reading my mind, maybe she was. "You are most likely having doubts about my power. I will look into your future, and I will show you what I see."

Tialmae looked down at me for a moment, her black eyes burrowing into my own once again. There was a monster in there, why was I letting her do this? She knelt down next to me in one lithe, quick motion, her eyes still on mine. She reached out to me, and I jerked backwards, away from her touch. She smiled again, this time not as innocent, and kept her gaze locked on me. Her eyes pulled me in, and I relaxed involuntarily. I realized that she was using whatever power she possessed, just like she had when I said yes. I tried to jerked away, to run, to yell, to do _anything_. This was not right at all, what had I been tricked into?

Tialmae reached out to me again, and I was powerless to move away, or do anything for that matter. She traced my scars gently, and closed her eyes. The same cold tingle as last time spread when she touched me, and made my skin crawl. I wanted to shy away from her touch, to be free of her spell. I wanted to scream in frustration, I thought I was going insane. She opened her eyes again, and placed both of her hands on my face. Staring into my eyes as intently as before, she began to mutter in a language I couldn't understand, that I had never heard before. She mutter faster and louder, and I was sure I would lose my mind if she didn't take her hands off of me soon. I felt the power around her strengthen, it was thick in the air and I had trouble breathing again. Her eyes rolled back in her head, so that all you could see was the whites.

Suddenly she stopped muttering and images began to flash by in my mind. I saw myself and Darin, laughing, although our clothes were ragged and dirty. It was soon replaced by an image of Farid, and that too was soon swept away in the flood of images. They came one after, confusing me and tormenting me by leaving after only seconds. Even when the seconds seemed to turn to eternities the images passed too fast for me to really see what was happening. It seemed like hours later when the images stopped, and I realized I could move. Tialmae had taken her hands off of me and her eyes were back to normal. "Fate has given you gifts Fire Dancer," she said, "You, have power beyond your own imagination. You only need reach out and take them." She closed her eyes and continued in a rasping voice, not nearly as silky and welcoming as her usual one,

"_In the dead lands_

_A hero lies in wait_

_No sword to wield_

_No crown or shield_

_And yet the power_

_He refuses to take_

_Will be exactly the make_

_Of a new journey_

_To follow or lead_

_Back to life he comes_

_To hear the war cry_

_The beat of drums_

_The crimson red_

_Seen so often before_

_Comes once again_

_To settle the score_

_The brave blue bird_

_The sneaking snake_

_Fire dances around_

_The shadows heart_

_Jealous for power_

_A hunger for art_

_The death of one loved_

_The start and the end_

_Defy or follow_

_The fox's old friend_

_The rooster crows_

_Calling the dawn_

_Our hero waits_

_It will not be long"_

She shuddered and opened her eyes. I sat there trying to piece together what she had just said. The more I thought about it, the less I liked the sound of it. "Fate has chosen you, Fire Friend, the question is, will you answer the call?" I looked back at her, and she stared right back, black eyes waiting for an answer.

"I don't know what you're talking about. What did all of that mean?" I asked.

"It was a prophecy," she answered, her voice was perfectly smooth and normal again, "And a serious one. I have only the slightest idea what it means. I do know who it is talking about though. And I'm sure you do also."

The way she looked at me when she said it sickened me. I did know who the hero was supposed to be, and I hated it. I was never meant to be the hero, that was a job for people like Silvertongue. I was simply not hero material, how could I suddenly be? I didn't want to be the hero either, I never had. I had always had a hard enough time just surviving from day to day without risking my life for others. People don't just change, at least not for the better. "Darin," Tialmae called, "It is time for Fire Dancer and you to return."

Darin scurried over to us quickly. Tialmae held out both of her hands to us. "Both of you, take my hands, I will return you. Prepare yourselves, your lives await."

She looked straight into my eyes again, and I knew that she knew more about what was waiting than she was letting us know. She murmured words in the same language as she had earlier, staring at me the entire time. Soon I felt a furious wind all around Darin and me, but no one was affected by it's touch. The little color in the world of black and white faded, reminding me of my time right before I came here. Darin's breath came in short gasps, and he looked scared and excited at the same time. I could hardly breath at all. I began to feel lightheaded and fuzzy. I felt Tialmae's hand simply disappear, just about when I felt panic start to grip me with icy claws. I felt myself being hurled through empty space that was truly nowhere.

And suddenly, there were stars. A dark night sky spread above me filled with beautiful stars I had not seen in years. I felt air rushing all around me and realized that I was falling. Then I hit the ground and everything went black once more.


	7. Home Again

**Note: I regrettably have not read Inkdeath yet (I know! I want to so bad!). So some things will not be right obviously. Well the fact that Dustfinger is now seemingly alive was bound to change the story anyways…but I just wanted to let you all know that. Please don't kill me! Let's just say that this is my own Inkdeath. Lol, the title even fits Dustfinger's new story!**

Chapter 7: Home Again

Birds…Birdsong, I could hear birds singing. The air, it was so…fresh and clear. My mind…so detached…and foggy. That's it, it had happened. I had finally gone mad. Does a madman wonder if he was insane? It didn't matter….I had to have gone crazy. Ugh, that rock under my back hurt. Rock? Under me? I was lying down? I had been _sleeping_? No, no, no, no…I was definitely crazy. None of this existed in the land of the white women. You don't sleep in the world of black and white. You just don't. My head was pounding painfully, I felt like I had been hit with a hammer…hard. For that matter my entire body was sore. Physical pain? That didn't exist either…then I remembered Tialmae. Had she done it? Was I really _alive_?

I opened my eyes and found myself blinded by the sun. I closed them quickly and raised an arm to block the light. "Ahhh!" I yelled as what had been throbbing pain in my wrist turned to sharp intense pain.

I sat up carefully and opened my eyes a tiny bit, letting them adjust to the light after years of darkness. The sun was warm on my skin; I had almost forgotten how good it felt. I raised my left arm up carefully grimacing as the pain from my wrist spread through my arm. Supporting it cautiously with my right hand I examined it. It was swollen and definitely not right, probably broken. As my eyes became accustomed to the light I looked around me. Green, lush grass, tall, beautiful trees, branches reaching for the bright blue sky. Sounds of life all around me. I was back. I was really, truly back. Something was missing though…what was it…Darin! Where was Darin?

I looked around wildly, wincing when I jerked my wrist. I didn't see him anywhere. Had he not made it? Was he still with the white women? I quickly tried to stand up, failed, and landed on the ground hard. I felt so weak, not right. I was sore everywhere, and I could barely think with my head throbbing like it was. I tried to stand up once more, and fell again. This was not good, I was too weak to help myself, and if things didn't get better I'd find myself with the white women again. I got up on my knees and fell on my face. I tried to catch myself with my injured wrist, and the burning pain intensified. I laid there for a minute, unable to do anything else, trying to get my pain under control. Just think, I told myself. How can I get out of this?

My muscles were like jelly, and so far had done nothing to help me. In fact trying to use them had made things worse. Darin wasn't here; I had to try to forget about him. I wished that he could have made it here with me. He was the one who had tried to plan a way back in the first place, and he was still stuck in the land of the dead. If Darin was here he could go for help, assuming he wasn't as bad off as I was. Help, how could I get help? Fire! If flames suddenly exploded into the sky someone was bound to notice. I raised my right hand, snapped, and smiled grimly when a tiny flame appeared on my thumbnail. It came so much easier here, so much more willingly. I whispered to it in its language, encouraging it to grow larger and larger. Then I threw it high into the air. I sent two more fireballs after it, and watched them explode one after the other.

People within miles of me would be able to see those, hopefully someone would investigate, and hopefully they would be a friend. If they weren't…I would worry about it when the time came. For now, all I could do was wait. Minutes passed and I sent a few more fireballs roaring into the sky. It felt good to be back here, I was not going to give my life up so easily. The minutes turned to hours of agonizing waiting, although I would send fire into the air every so often. Every single second was horrible, waiting, in agonizing pain, wondering if I would return to the white women. I found myself clinging to consciousness, willing myself to stay awake.

Stay awake, I told myself, just stay awake. That's all you have to do Dustfinger, hold on. Someone's got to be on their way. I felt my vision start to blur, and I sent one last feeble fireball into the air. All of the noises of life were fading, along with my sight. No! I thought, I won't go back! My only comfort was that I couldn't hear the white women, at least not yet. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard bushes rustling as something large moved through them. I was going to black out, I knew it. What if it was a hostile animal? "Won't go back," I murmured pathetically, trying to keep awake.

"I won't let them take me," even my own voice, scratchy because of my dry throat, seemed distant to me now.

"Over there! Look, that him? It's got to be!" a sudden voice intruded into my fading senses.

"I won't let them take me," I said again, my voice quiet and rasping.

I felt two large hands gently roll me over onto my back, and I opened my eyes a tiny bit to try to see the man. He was looking down at me, he seemed worried. I couldn't really see many of his features because of my blurry, fading vision. "Don't let them take me," I rasped, "They have Darin…"

"It's okay; it's goin' to be okay. We'll get you to safety, don't worry," the man said.

_Dustfinger…_the whispering voices started, ever so faintly, but they were there. My breath started coming in short gasps. They couldn't take me back! "They're…they're here, they're coming back for…" I started coughing violently and couldn't finish. I reached up feebly and grasped the man's arm weakly with my good arm. "Don't…don't let them take me back."

I hated having to go through this. I hated sounding feeble and weak. I hated having so much _fear_ overwhelming me. I hated Tialmae for doing this to me, for playing this cruel trick. "We need to get 'im out of here and fixed up. White women are starting to get to 'im," I heard another man say.

This was bad, this couldn't happen, not again. The world slipped completely, and I felt myself slide into suppressing darkness once more.


	8. Awakening

Chapter 8: Awakening

"Dustfinger? Dustfinger? He's still not waking up!" the voice sounded slightly warped and distant, like I was underwater.

"He'll wake or he won't. You gotta give 'im some room to breath though," the second voice was harsh, then it softened, "He's lookin' better. Cheer up, I'm sure he'll wake up soon."

My eyelids felt heavy, unwilling to open. I was sore all over still, but not as bad as when I last woke up. I laid there for a moment, relieved that I was still in this world. The sounds all around me got clearer and clearer. I finally opened my eyes to see that I was in a small cottage. Two men sat at a table talking in hushed tones and a fire crackled just behind them. There was simple furniture all around, nothing out of the ordinary. I looked the other way and saw someone I hadn't been expecting. "Darin?" I asked, my throat dry and raspy.

He turned immediately and a smile lit up his face. "Dustfinger! You're awake! I told you we'd make it! I told you we could do it!"

I heard chairs scrape back as the two men got out of their seats. They came over to where I was laying down and I got my first good look at them. The first one was large, with a red beard and hair. He seemed like a good sort of guy I suppose, the type who laughs a lot and is good natured. Probably better than I am, but that's not too hard. The second was tall and lean, the complete opposite of the first. His hair was much shorter and was dark brown, almost black. He was also much younger. His eyes searched me curiously and I wondered exactly what Darin had told them. His bright green eyes wandered to my scars and he frowned slightly.

I would have to be careful around him. I didn't trust him. Well, I rarely trusted anyone, but still. "How are you feeling?" The large man asked.

"I'll live," I replied simply.

"That does not tell me much," the man said.

"Which is exactly how much I meant to tell you," I said again, keeping my voice level and calm.

The large man frowned, and the other looked at me curiously, green eyes searching for what I was hiding. "The boy calls you Dustfinger," the young man said, almost a question but not quite.

I looked at Darin and scowled. He shrugged apologetically. "Yes," I said slowly, "He does."

He frowned again. His look said that he didn't trust me either. I didn't blame him. I sat up slowly, careful not to groan out loud when pain exploded throughout my body. "Careful," the large man said, "You are not doing well. What exactly happened?"

I gave Darin a look that clearly said, keep you're mouth shut. "We were attacked," I lied, "By bandits."

"Forgive me when I say I don't believe you," the younger man said in a deadly voice.

"I never asked or expected you to," I said, matching his tone.

The large man fidgeted nervously and said, "Please, I'll have none of this in my house. Especially when speaking to a guest, Jareth."

Jareth scowled at him, but he ignored him and continued, "I am sorry for my nephew's behavior. I am Baleon."

"I'm grateful for your hospitality, especially under these circumstances," I said

"The boy said that his name is Darin, and that you are Dustfinger," Baleon said, eyeing me carefully.

I glared at Darin again and said, "Yes, those are our names. Once again I am grateful for your help, but we really have to go."

I swung my legs over the side of the cot, wincing when I felt the stiffness and pain. At least I was able to move this much. "I know of a man named Dustfinger, and I know that you are not him," Jareth said quietly.

Damn it Darin, why did you have to go blurting out everything? I thought, and closed my eyes for a moment to compose myself. "Who are you really?" Jareth asked, "You cannot be Dustfinger, even if you have his name and his scars. Dustfinger is long dead."

I stared at him and he held my gaze. Why did he care about me so much? "How long has he been dead," I asked finally.

"Years," he replied.

"How many years?" I asked, my patience wearing thin.

"Six," he said.

I put my head in my hands and sat there silently. Six long years spent in darkness. I couldn't believe it, it just didn't seem like it could be true. "Sir? Are you feeling okay?" Baleon asked in a concerned voice.

I simply nodded, unable to speak. Six years had been unimaginably horrible, how would I have been able to handle an eternity? I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked over to see Darin standing there, looking at me sympathetically. "Six years," I whispered.

He nodded and said, "It's hard to believe. It doesn't…I can't…"

"I understand the feeling," I said.

"What is going on? Who are you really?" Jareth asked.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," I said.

"I want to know anyways. Tell me now," he insisted.

"Jareth, hold your tongue! This is no way to treat a guest!" Baleon scolded.

"I am simply keeping your house safe, uncle," Jareth spat back.

"These men have threatened us in no way!"

"They lie to us and openly admit that they are doing so!"

"If they do not wish to tell us the truth then that is their choice," Baleon said in a voice that clearly said that conversation was over.

"Again, I thank you, but we really need to go," I said.

"Please, if I can't convince you to wait for your strength to return, at least eat some food and takes some with you," Baleon said.

Jareth glared at him and said, "Why must you leave so soon? Is there something you are running from?"

"No, we aren't running from anything. More like running to someone," I answered.

"Who? Fellow imposters and criminals?"

I ignored his heated comment and said, "Friends of ours, the Motley Folk. If you could please tell us where we are we'll be able to find them."

"You don't know where you are?" Baleon asked.

"My memory seems a bit fuzzy," I answered.

"Are you sure you are fit to go?" Baleon asked.

"I'll be fine," I said.

He watched me for a moment then said, "I'll let you go on three conditions. One, you eat something before you leave. Two, you take some supplies with you. Three, Jareth goes with you."

"What?!" Jareth yelled.

"They are not at full strength obviously. You can help them," Baleon said then added, "We both know you cannot stay here forever. You would not be happy. You have been restless since your father died. Go with my blessing, I know that you will not disappoint me."

Jareth looked down at his feet and said, "Fine, you are right. I'll help them."

Baleon gave us food, supplies, and money. I thanked him again, and the three of us left his house. I was sore and shaky, but the fresh air was wonderful, and I would get better over time. We had gone only a short distance when Jareth said, "I have to know, who are you?"

I sighed and said, "If you're going to be traveling I suppose you should know,"

He looked triumphant and I continued, "I am Dustfinger, the Fire Dancer. I died and was taken by the white women six years ago. Apparently I have been touched by fate, and a former witch sent Darin and me back. We were spat back into this world where we fell from the sky. That's when you found me. There, does that answer your question?"

Jareth frowned, but was silent. I almost smiled seeing the look on his face. Sometimes it's easier not knowing the truth.


	9. The Wayless Woods

Chapter 9: The Wayless Woods

We had been traveling for a couple of days now. The journey was hard on me at first, but as we progressed my strength started returning and the pain lessened. We went at my pace, which I went as fast as I possibly could without injuring myself. Jareth was quiet, speaking only when necessary. I caught him staring at me often, but he would look away as soon as he saw he'd been caught. I could tell that our silent companion still didn't trust us, he was as easy to read as an open book. Well, not that I read books as well as people.

I felt my pulse accelerate when we reached the giant trees of the Wayless Woods, and I quickened my pace. This was my home, this place of indescribable beauty. It was even more amazing than when I had returned all those years ago. A soft breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees, and a small blue fairy flew by, gently touching my hair as it passed. I breathed deeply, and felt thankful that I needed to. Some things you just take for granted, until they are taken from you.

Every breath, every step, every time the sun rose up into the sky in all it's glory, I remembered my dark torment. The reminder made me glad that I was alive; thankful for everything that I now had. I ran my hand over the rough bark of one of the trees. I felt at home, this was my home. I looked up into the sky, and sighed when I saw how far down the sun was. I wanted to keep moving, but we needed to stop and rest. "Let's make camp here," I said reluctantly.

Darin looked at me and smiled. The look of peace on his face made me want to smile too. Jareth glanced around nervously however, like a trapped man. I knew the feeling, but I hadn't a clue why he was so uptight right now. We split up quickly to search for firewood. I bent down to pick up a few small branches, and when I stood up Jareth was standing there. He took a nervous breath, and said, "I don't like this. I have a bad feeling."

I watched him curiously for a moment. "Why? What sort of feeling?" I asked finally.

"I don't know," he replied, looking at his feet. "My instincts are going crazy though, my senses are on fire."

Jareth looked around again, a look of wild fear in his eyes. "I've had this feeling before. Whatever I say is going to happen always does. Something's not right, you have to believe me," he said desperately.

I watched him cautiously for a moment, and thought about it. Of all people, I should be open-minded. What he was saying could be possible. Tialmae had seen the future, why couldn't Jareth? "Look," Jareth continued, "I've doubted you, but I've been thinking about it. I've never heard of it before, but maybe what you say happened to you is possible. You're the mirror image of Dustfinger, I don't think it's possible for an imposter to be so much like…you. I believe you, and now I'm begging you to believe me."

"I've seen way to many things in my life…and death," I said finally. "From what I've seen, anything can happen. I believe you. We'll keep our eyes wide open tonight."

Jareth looked down at his feet again, and he was noticeably calmer. He looked back up at me, green eyes like gems in the dying light. "Thanks you," he croaked out, "For believing me. You're still not up to full strength, I'll take first watch tonight."

I opened my mouth to object, but realized he was right. If we were going to have to face something tonight, we would have to trust each other. "Alright, let's go get something to eat," I sighed.

The three of us sat around our small fire eating some bread, cheese, and dried meat that Baleon had provided. Darin and I ate ravenously. It was the strangest thing, I had noticed that my appetite was much bigger than it had been. Apparently Darin's was too, because he was hungrier than a boy his age should be. I had rationed out the meals though, and although the portions might not fill mine and Darin's bellies completely, they were good enough.

We sat in silence when we were done eating, gazing into the fire. Suddenly, Jareth said, "What was it like there? When you were…"

"Dead?" I finished.

He nodded uncomfortably and said, "Yes."

"Black and white," I said, "That's the best way to explain it. There was darkness stretched out in every direction, and the place was full of white women of course. Remember your life, and you keep yourself intact. Give in to the blankness, and you fade, until only a shell of you remains, and even that disappears in time. Well, you move on anyways no matter what happens."

"Move on?" Jareth asked.

"It appears that the White women's castle is only a pit stop on the road of eternity," I answered, noticing as Darin shivered.

Jareth was silent for a moment then said, "You are the Fire Dancer, can you still…?" he glanced at the camp fire.

I smiled slightly, and whispered to the flames. They crackled and threw sparks up excitedly as I spoke to them. I reached my hand out, and stroked the fire. In return it danced up my arm, licking me lovingly. It twirled around my fingertips, and leaped from one of my hands to the other. I encouraged it, and together we played. There was a joy in handling fire that nothing else in this world or any other could ever compare to. I could even love the dumb flame in Silvertongue's home world.

After a little while I gently shook my hand, and the fire leapt back to the wood, crackling joyfully. I looked back up at Jareth and asked, "Does that answer your question?"

He swallowed hard, and nodded. There was a look of respect, and realization in his eyes. He now had no doubts about who I was. Darin was absolutely beaming from ear to ear. This was the way things were supposed to be. Me and fire, entertaining. I felt myself wishing for my…friends. I realized that I thought of them as friends. Silvertongue, Meggie, and Farid. Oh Farid, I missed that boy the most, right next to Roxanne. Roxanne, I closed my eyes and thought of her face, faded by time, but still there. Would she accept me? Would she take me back? And Brianna, what of her? I opened my eyes again, and stared into the flames while mulling over everything.

That's when the twig snapped, and everything fell into chaos. I heard the voice before I felt the knife at my throat, and knew immediately who it was. "Well, well, what have we got here?"

The smell of mint wafted into my nostrils, just as the terror reached my mind. It was like the nightmare I had had so many times. The voice continued, "Dirtyfingers? You're supposed to be dead. That doesn't matter though, now I can have the pleasure of sending you back myself."

I saw that two men also had knives at Darin and Jareth's throats. More men surrounded us. Jareth's eyes blazed with fury, and also fear. His prediction had come true. Darin had pure terror written all over his face. I swallowed, and said, "Well, hello Basta."


	10. Fire Pack

Chapter 10: Fire Pack

I sat still and forced myself to breath evenly. The skin on my neck prickled, Basta's knife not even an inch away. His warm, minty breath filled my nostrils, making me want to gag. Jareth had been right when he said something bad was going to happen. He seemed to be trying to hold his fear in, but Darin's eyes were wide with terror, his breath coming in short gasps. I made myself stay calm, although my mind screamed with the need to panic. "So," Basta's rough voice cut through the night. "You've been busy, Dirtyfingers. Mourning, dying, coming back to life…"

"Yes, very busy. You should try dying sometime, Basta, it's quite the thrill," I replied, using that calm tone that Basta hated.

"Oh don't you wish I would," he crooned.

I was silent for a moment. We both knew that I did. We also knew that he felt the same about me. We were like fire and ice; enemies stuck in a never ending struggle. "Unfortunately," Basta continued. "For you that is, I seem to have the upper hand. You make one wrong move and you're dead. And don't even think about fire. I love these moments." He chuckled darkly.

"You also love the sound of your own voice," I added. "The rest of us don't though. So I think we would all appreciate it if you would kindly shut up."

I sounded so much more at ease then I felt. Darin's eyes widened even more when I said that. Apparently he knew all about Basta and his knife. Basta growled at my comment, and said to the other men, "Bring those two, they can come with us." Then said a surprisingly short, "Up." To me.

I stood reluctantly. Where were we going anyways? Was Basta still in league with the Adderhead? What would the king want with me though? Basta would get much more joy out of killing me then taking me on a hike. "Someone's going to be very glad to see you Dirtyfingers," Basta said.

He moved his knife to the small of my back and said, "Start walking."

"And who would that be?" I asked.

"An…old friend, you could say," Basta said with a rough chuckle.

I felt impatience and anger rise up inside me. Why didn't he just go die a slow, painful death? "Which old friend?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Basta replied.

I knew he was enjoying this way too much already. I had to be careful not to give him any more satisfaction. His knife was always a little too close, urging me on. The woods around us were black, filled with the sounds of life. More than a couple of times there were rustles in the undergrowth near us, and glowing eyes peeked at us occasionally.

Basta kept us moving at a merciless pace. I was stronger, but moving at this time, at this pace had me feeling sore and exhausted. I stumbled often, only to be urged on by Basta's blade. Fatigue made my limbs feel like they were made of lead. I snuck a look over at Darin and Jareth, only to punched in the face by Basta. Lights exploded in front of my eyes and I fell to my hands and knees. "Get up," Basta growled, and I felt him kick me hard in the ribs.

I involuntarily rolled over on my back. The kick was painful and would leave a bruise, but nothing was broken. I stayed there, the breath seemingly sucked out of my lungs. I felt the sharp toe of Basta's boot in my side again. "I said, get up," he said, his voice low and menacing.

I took a shuddering breath, and started to get up, but that apparently wasn't fast enough for Basta. He kicked me again, and I went rolling through the dead leaves on the forest floor. Pain exploded in my side, and I groaned accidentally. I heard a dry chuckle from Basta, and I knew he had heard it. I rolled over, and started to get on my hands and knees, but Basta was having too much fun, and I ended up with a foot in the gut.

This was all too much. There are some things that you can handle without giving in, or fighting back, but eventually instinct will take over. I felt rage blaze inside me, like fire taking over a forest. I was not a dog to be kicked around without fighting back. Dogs bite. Fire is not a thing to be controlled by ignorant hands. Fire burns. Fury rose up in me, and before I knew what I was doing I had called fire.

That's when everything got _really_ strange. I realized that I was standing, but I didn't remember getting up. I had an intense mixture of feelings and emotions, almost like the confusion when Tialmae read my future. I whispered harshly to the flame in it's crackling tongue, and it grew. I let my rage fuel it, and I smiled smugly at the look of terror on Basta's face. With a few last fire words I sent it flying through the air towards Basta and his men.

Darin and Jareth looked at me as though I was mad. If the flame consumed our captors, it would consume my companions also. I knew it, and I had it completely under control. About halfway toward them the fire seemed to pause in midair; changing and morphing. With a flick of the hand, I finished the transformation, and my creations leapt to the ground.

Basta and his men stared in amazed terror at the six bright figures. Each was the image of a wolf made of pure fire. The fire pack stalked forward, bearing fiery teeth. Basta only hesitated a moment before fleeing, and his men followed suit. I spoke to the pack and they immediately followed the men. As soon as they were out of sight I fell back to the ground. Darin and Jareth ran to me quickly, looking around nervously as eerie howls rose into the night.

"What…How…?" Darin sputtered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. "Why didn't you do that earlier? It would have spared us energy and trouble," Jareth said.

"I…I don't know what happened," I said finally.

"What do you mean?" Darin asked.

"I know more fire tricks than you can imagine, but that…that was different," I said.

"How so?" Jareth asked.

"There was a difference to them. They were made of fire, they obeyed me like fire. But they were different. It seemed like…it was almost like they were…" I stopped talking as I thought about it, and looked at my hands.

"Almost like what?" Jareth asked cautiously.

I looked up at him and said, "Like they were alive."

"But how is that possible?" Darin asked.

"I don't know, but I could feel it. I can feel them now. They should have just faded away after they went out of sight, but they aren't gone. We can even hear them," I said, and paused listening to the cries of the wolves.

"Tialmae said…" Darin started.

I nodded, "I was thinking that too. She said that I had been given power, I only had to reach out and take it," I stopped talking, and gave a bitter laugh. "I suppose I can thank Basta for that. How ironic."

"Tialmae?" Jareth asked.

"The witch that sent us back. She said many things that didn't quite make sense. Things about me…" I answered.

"What are we going to do now?" Darin asked.

"I'm exhausted. Those creatures came with a price," I admitted.

"We should rest then," Jareth said, "If we need you to do that again then we need your strength up. I'll keep first watch."

I nodded, to tired to say anything. I laid down slowly and closed my eyes. I could still feel the wolves, their presence in my mind. I felt and saw them run gracefully, almost as though I were with them. Their movements were effortless, they were power incarnated. I'm not exactly sure how I did, but I told them to end their hunt for now. Even though they were miles away, I fell asleep listening to the crackle of fire, and the soft noises of running paws.


	11. Reunion

Chapter 11: Reunion

I could hear the crackling glee of the campfire. I breathed in deeply, but let my eyes remain closed. I was tired, but somehow refreshed. I had slept well, although there was a sort of fatigue hanging around in my limbs. It didn't really seem strange to me, I _was_ recovering. The fire continued its crackling and popping. The sounds were comforting to me. I rolled over, and took a sharp breath in when I realized how battered and bruised my ribs felt.

I groaned inwardly as I remembered last nights events. So many questions were unanswered. A few in particular; why was Basta alive? And how did I create the fire pack? Tialmae had had a devilish look in her eye the entire time, she could've sent Basta back like me. I had never seen him in the white women's world though.

Upon opening my eyes I discovered that not only had the wolves ended their hunt, but they had come back to me. They stood there, all six of them, watching over our camp. I realized that the sound of fire was coming from them, since we had neglected to create a campfire last night. I sat up, and the eyes of one of the wolves, the biggest one, followed me. I automatically assumed that he was the alpha, I just seemed to know.

They really were marvelous creatures. They were made of flame, but nothing they touched caught fire. Their shapes were ever-moving, the fire cascading along their necks and backs, so that their outline never seemed to be solid. I whispered in fire's language to them, and their ears perked up. Darin twitched in his sleep, and one of them wandered over to sniff him. The boy rolled over, murmuring something that sounded like, 'just a bit longer'.

Jareth sighed suddenly, and sat up. He groggily looked at his surroundings, then jumped when he saw the pack. "They came back," he said, frowning. He looked at me and asked, "Did you call them?"

"Not exactly," I said, "I woke up and they were here."

He nodded, then stood up and stretched. "They're eerie, the way they just sit there and watch us," he said, eyeing them uneasily.

"I don't mind," I said, "They're protecting us, which apparently we need after last night…"

Jareth just nodded. "Are we going to get our supplies?" he asked.

I thought about it for a moment. It would slow us down, having to go all the way back. At that moment the alpha, I decided to call him Pyro, made an odd sort of bark. I looked at him, and as he stared back the thought just sort of popped into my mind. It seemed obvious after I heard it. _Let us get the supplies._ I didn't hear the words exactly, but I got the feeling. I looked back at Jareth. "They can get them," I said, nodding at the wolves, "They're strong and fast. They'll be able to catch up."

Jareth frowned at me, then the wolves, then turned to me again. "We're going to have wolves made of fire go get our belongings," he shook his head and continued, "When I said that I'd go with you I didn't expect all of this."

The pack all gathered around Pyro, waiting my command. I looked at Pyro, then at each of the other wolves. _Pyro, Phoenix, Cinder, Star, Ember, and Ash_, I thought the names as I looked to each wolf. _Go._ They immediately sprung into action, Pyro leading the way. _Hurry, _I sent the thought to them, willing their paws to move faster. As Jareth and I watched them go, Darin woke up. He glanced around, then looked at me. "Are we going back to get our supplies?" he asked.

I shook my head and turned away, and Jareth slapped his hand to his forehead. "What? What is it?" Darin asked.

"Apparently we are trusting dogs to get our things," Jareth said.

"Huh?" Darin said, confused.

"The fire pack," I explained, "Pyro's leading them back to our things."

"Pyro?" Jareth said, frowning.  
I looked down at my feet for a moment. Of course Jareth wouldn't understand. "Yes, Pyro," I said.

I didn't need to look at his face to see his distrusting glare, the scorn in his words said it all. "You named them? Those…creatures, we have no idea how you 'made' them. We have no idea what they're going to do. What if they turn on us?"

"You don't know them like I do," I said, looking back at him.

"Oh, so now you know them? _They were created last night!_" he spat, his face growing an angry red.

"Look, you can say whatever you want. I'm trusting them though, and the fact that I trust them should be enough for you. You don't like it? You can have your things when the pack brings them back, and go on alone!" I was not going to deal with Jareth's distrust anymore.

He stood there, glaring at me silently. Darin seemed to have found the leaves on the ground very interesting suddenly. We stayed that way for a while, all three of us uneasy. Finally, there was a howl in the distance, and I received a picture of the pack members picking up our things carefully in their fiery teeth. I sent a feeling of approval to them, and willed them to get here soon. "They have our supplies," I told my companions.

Jareth snorted and walked a little ways away, and Darin watched him uncomfortably. Darin took a step towards him, but I shook my head. "Let him be," I said quietly, and Darin nodded.

I leaned against a tree, watching our surroundings carefully. We had scared away Basta and his men, but how long would that last? The undergrowth rustled a ways away from us. I looked in the direction of the sound, and I heard the creature growl. It wasn't a menacing growl, but a friendly one. The bear stood up on its hind legs, sniffing the air and looking at me. I stared at it in disbelief, then in the forest around it. Sure enough, within a few moments the Black Prince walked forth, with a masked person behind him I realized was Silvertongue.

The Prince saw Darin first. His eyes widened, and a choked cry escaped his lips. Silvertongue stepped forward and asked, "Darin?"

"Mo!" Darin cried his name in delight.

Silvertongue took off the Bluejay's mask, and ran to Darin, wrapping his arms around him with a fatherly embrace. The Prince ran forward, and his bear followed him. "How is this possible? Darin…you were…" he said, unable to finish.

"I was! But I'm back now, I escaped the White Women!" Darin replied.

"How? That can't be possible," Silvertongue said.

"The boy didn't do it alone," I said, then stepped away from the tree.

If they had looked shocked when they saw Darin, it was nothing compared to when they saw me. "Dustfinger?" the Prince whispered my name, as though afraid I wasn't really there.

Silvertongue stared at me, eyes wider than I would have thought humanly possible. "Is that really you?" the Prince continued.

I nodded, and said, "It really is."

They continued to stare at me, and I snapped my fingers. Fire crackled as it sat on my hand, and I looked at my old friend with a grim smile. A smile spread across the Princes' face, and I extinguished the flame. He ran up and hugged me, nearly crushing my ribs. I stood there and accepted it. Darin was right, they had missed me. I couldn't help but smile as the Prince pulled away, his eyes gleaming. "You're really back," he said, then looked at Darin, "Both of you."

The Prince stepped to the side, and Silvertongue approached. He walked carefully, his expression nearly unreadable. "Dustfinger," he said.

"Silvertongue," I replied, nodding.

He held out his hand and I took it. Then he pulled me into another embrace. The bear growled, and I looked behind me and saw that Jareth had returned. He looked from the Prince, to his bear, then at the blue feathered mask in Silvertongue's hand. "Silvertongue, Prince, this is Jareth. He's been traveling with Darin and me," I said.

Silvertongue and the Prince both nodded, and I continued, "Jareth, these are my friends, Silvertongue, and the Black Prince."

Jareth looked again at Silvertongue's mask, then said, "The Black Prince and the Bluejay. I'm honored."

Silvertongue looked at his mask, and said, "Please, just call me Mo."

Jareth stared at him, but nodded. Then he looked at me and said, "So, where are your reliable pets?"

I noticed Silvertongue and the Prince exchange a confused look, but ignored it for the moment. I closed my eyes and focused on the pack. I heard the soft thuds of their paws on the forest floor, and got the word, _Close_. I opened my eyes and looked at Jareth. "They're close now," then turned my gaze to Silvertongue and the Prince.

"There are some…friends of ours who are meeting us here. Mind if we wait a few minutes for them?" I said.

The Prince nodded, and said, "Alright." He put his arm around my shoulders.

"You have _a lot_, of explaining to do," he said.

I nodded and smiled, "Yes, I know. I'll tell you everything. There are a few things that are a bit alarming."

"I think we can handle it," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

I looked at Silvertongue and he smiled, Darin standing right beside him. The Black Prince was standing there next to me, and his bear was sniffing the undergrowth nearby. I was alive, and for the moment, happy. I saw the emotions in their eyes as clearly as if they had spoken them out loud. They were overjoyed. They had missed me as much as I had missed them. The thought brought me hope. These were my friends, I belonged here. I couldn't hide my smile as I thought that maybe I'd get my happy ending after all.


	12. The Robbers' Camp

**Note: I have just started reading Inkdeath (Finally!). So I might try to tie in some things now….but I'm not finished reading it yet so some things are still gonna be different…well…they already are I suppose. I was amazed at how some things (Dustfinger's new abilities for example) were so alike in my story and Inkdeath. Great minds think alike….although I've never considered my mind great. Oh well. Happy reading!**

Chapter 12: The Robbers' Camp

The bear gave a sudden, alarmed grunt, and raised his nose, sniffing the air. Then the rest of us heard the movements of several large animals. Silvertongue slid a sword out of its sheath and the Prince pulled out a knife. "It's fine," I said quickly. "It's just the friends we're waiting for."

They put the weapons away slowly, and looked in the direction of the noises. I knew that the Prince had a deadly throw, he rarely missed. I wondered how good Silvertongue was with that sword. He held it confidently, as though he had been born with it in his hand. Silvertongue, a killer? It looked like he was playing the Bluejay's part well.

Pyro bounded into sight with the other wolves in pursuit. I noticed the Prince and Silvertongue go rigid with shock, and the bear bellowed out a warning, but I ignored them for the moment. Pyro eyed my friends carefully, then walked forward to stand in front of me. He lowered his head, and dropped the supplies he had been carrying. Phoenix and Cinder had been carrying the rest, and they copied their alpha.

_Good job, _I thought to them. Pyro nodded, then nudged my hand with his nose. I was surprised at the touch. It gave off heat like a fire, but didn't burn in quite the same way. "What…?" the Prince started.

"This is one of the things I told you was slightly alarming. We should start moving, and I'll tell you on the way. If I told you the whole story here we would be ready to go in about a week," I said.

He agreed, and Jareth, Darin, and I grabbed our belongings. "About to go poach some of the Adderhead's deer? You know how much he loves that," I said.

"Anymore, we don't even need to go to Argenta to poach. The Adder has spread his rule. Ombra is a snake's nest," the Prince replied, his voice stiff. "But we don't want to hear about that. Spit it out. What happened?"

I obliged, knowing that he was eager to hear the story. It all seemed so strange to me, walking with my old friend again, telling him of another adventure. I told them of the Fighters, and when Darin got there. I told them about Tialmae, and her arcane powers. The Prince frowned at that, and Silvertongue looked thoughtful. He wasn't as easy to read anymore. He wasn't the open book that he used to be. He really had changed, hardened.

I grudgingly admitted to my predicament upon arriving here. I looked over to Jareth when I mentioned him and his uncle. He refused meet my gaze, and stared coldly at the forest ahead of us. I continued the story, and paused when I got to last night when Basta appeared. The Prince looked at me concernedly and spoke softly, "Dustfinger, what happened?"

Darin glanced at me anxiously. "Do you want me to tell them?" he offered.

I shook my head, "No, I will."

My voice sounded hard, harder than I'd meant. Silvertongue and the Prince exchanged a look. "We set up camp for the night," I started, "We talked, I played with fire, all seemed well."

I paused again, and the Prince prompted, "And then…?"

"Basta," I said softly.

The Prince stopped dead, and so did Silvertongue. "Basta?" Silvertongue's voice betrayed him; he was alarmed.

"Well, it seems as though everyone is coming back from the dead these days," the Prince said weakly, and we started walking again.

I nodded, and continued, "We didn't hear his men until it was too late. By the time we knew we were in trouble there were knives at our throats. They made us walk, and Basta said that there was someone who would be happy to see me. His words were, 'an old friend'."

"An old friend?" Silvertongue asked, "Who could he be working for now?"

His voice was hard again, not betraying emotion. I noticed that his hand was at his sword. He truly was the Bluejay. What had this world done to him? I found myself cursing that stupid, old writer again. Who was he to decide peoples' fates?

"I'm not sure. He wouldn't tell me. I would assume the Adderhead though. We all know how much Basta loves power," I reasoned.

"Well, if the Adder does have his hound back he's keeping it very quiet," The Prince said.

"How did you get away?" Silvertongue asked.

I motioned to the wolves, "Them. I got this rage all of the sudden, so I called fire to me and before I even knew what I was doing…there they were."

"Very interesting," the Prince said, staring at the wolves.

I could almost see the plans he had for my new skills running through his head. I heard a bird call nearby, and one farther off answer. They seemed too loud. The robbers? As though he were reading my mind, the Prince said, "Lazaro has taught the men bird calls. They're useful signals."

Lazaro, that was the Strong Man's real name. He had been a good, loyal friend. I felt excited, the camp was nearby. I was nervous though too. What would everyone think? The Prince seemed to sense my uneasiness and gave me a reassuring smile. We stopped in front of some thick trees, and Silvertongue parted the branches and nodded to me. I stepped through with the Prince right behind me. The trees had created a sort of wall, which hid the caves I was now seeing.

Voices echoed loudly in there, little voices. Children? What was the Prince up to? A man stepped out of the shadows, and I recognized Battista by his pockmarked face. "Who's…." he started to say, then stopped when he got a good look at me.

A wave of emotion passed through his eyes then. Pain, joy, bewilderment, awe…they were all there to read. "Battista," the quiet voice was so familiar, yet different.

I felt my heart swell as Meggie's form came out of the cave. "Could you sing me…" she stopped as she saw us.

She looked at Silvertongue guiltily, yet defiantly, then saw me. Her eyes widened, and her chin quivered. Tears filled her eyes, and she took a hesitant step forward. "Dustfinger?" she whispered.

"Yes, Princess," I answered with a smile.

She rushed forward, and next thing I knew she was hugging me, and I hugged her back. We stayed that way for a little while, then she pulled back so she could see me better. Tears ran down her face, and I wiped them away gently. "Why the tears?" I asked. "You're not actually happy to see me, are you?"

She laughed, and I smiled. "It's really you," she said, "You're really back."

"And I don't plan on leaving any time soon," I said.

"Good," she managed, before she started crying again.

She buried her face in my chest, shaking with silent sobs. "Shhhh," I said softly, "It's alright."

She was so grown up, so much older. She wasn't a little girl anymore. I had been gone for six years…how old would she be now? Eighteen? I felt a tug at my heart, and I silently cursed Basta for all he had taken away from me. I'll win though, I vowed. I'll make him pay for all he's ever done to me and the people I love. "We'd best get inside, before everyone thinks we're hiding you," Meggie said with a smile.

I nodded, and we all walked into the cave. There were children everywhere, and again I wondered what the Prince was up to. Flickering torches gave off enough light to see, and I looked around. Finally, I saw her. She was sitting a ways away, her back turned to the entrance, tending to some children. I felt a smile spread across my face involuntarily. With a few fire words I wrote her name on the wall in large letters. _Roxanne._ She looked at them for a moment, then turned slowly.

"I keep my promises," I said.

She stood up slowly, as though stuck in a dream. Then she ran to me as fast as she could, arms wide, eyes watery. We stood there and I held her as though there was nothing else in the world. Suddenly, nothing else mattered at all, and I was completely fine with that.


	13. KF's Note

Hey guys!!!

Ok, I know that I am not the best writer, and definitely not the best updater. You are the people who have stuck with my story all along though. I just wanted to say thanks for that. I also wanted to let you know that I am going on vacation, so I will probably not have internet access for a little over a week. I was planning on updating soon, but that kinda stands in the way.

School's out now, so hopefully when I get back I will be able to update faster. Thanks for being awesome! Have a great summer!

~Knighted Fantasy


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